By The Light Of The TV
by Catherine Wheels
Summary: There was something about Russia that Lithuania couldn't help but love. -Russia/Lithuania, hints of Russia/China-


A/N: This was inspired by the song "Happy" by Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins. Particularly by the line, "_I like watching you undress, and I think we're at our best by the flicker by the light of the TV set. And I can't remember why I hated you. I can't remember why I still do_." It made me think of these two.

Also, sorry for any OOC. I think. But I'm not sorry for FemChina.

Historical note: this takes place during the Cuban Missile Crisis. 1962. The Sino-Soviet Split was official, according to what I read, in 1961. That's why China's not there.

* * *

There was something about Russia's back that Lithuania loved. The way the skin held tight over the muscles, the broad shape of the shoulders… Lithuania couldn't put his finger on it, but it was something; maybe it was the scars, the mazes of wounds on his shoulders from his 'greatest ally and enemy.' The scars so closely resembled Lithuania's own that he couldn't help but stare, couldn't help but love.

Russia sat with his shirt off, his eyes glued to the television, an empty bottle at his feet. "Damn, damn, damn…" he kept saying, his voice quiet.

"What is it?"

"America."

"Always."

"Always, always, always. Damn."

"You pay too much attention to him." Lithuania crossed his arms. "Go to bed."

"He's important!" Russia snapped, standing up, the muscles in his back shifting. He groaned slightly, and Lithuania began to shake. "And Cuba is important, too. They're drawing a damn hard line in the sand…"

"You can't launch a missile and you know it…" Lithuania muttered. "You'd kill us all."

Russia spun, his eyes full of fury. "But if I don't, then they'll call me weak. And I've made my image on not being weak, haven't I, Lithuania?"

"Nobody thinks you're weak." It was a lie. Others had doubtlessly seen Russia as pathetic and childish, looked only at his violence and cheerful face and found him despicable. But at that moment, Lithuania could only see the muscle under the bulk, the brute physical strength. "I don't think you're weak. Cuba doesn't think you're weak."

"Of course Cuba doesn't think I'm weak," Russia snarled, descending into a fit of laughter and sitting back, his hand resting on his stomach, his legs spread wide, back pressed to the chair. Lithuania wished he would return to sitting on the edge, to having his skin taught against his ribs and muscles, the deep curved line of his spine. "I'm giving him weapons. Just like Turkey doesn't think America is weak."

"Go to bed," Lithuania repeated. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get some sleep. Do you have any idea how late it is? It's nearly two in the morning."

"Six in the morning at America's house," Russia muttered.

Lithuania shook his head, and stood in front of the television set. "You need to get sleep or your eyes will fall out of your head."

"I don't care."

"What?"

Russia closed his eyes and tilted his head up, taking a deep breath, his stomach rising and falling slowly. "I don't care if my eyes fall out. That was her favorite thing about me and I don't care anymore."

Lithuania bit his lip slightly. China. Of course. In the end, it all came back to China. China, who hadn't even loved Russia for years now, and yet… Lithuania realized with horror that he had always been slightly jealous of China. He assumed that when the Asian nation was gone, Russia would return to placing all of his affection and abuse onto him, and not… America. Stupid, stupid America, living halfway around the world, and distracting Russia's attention, leaving the poor man sleepless, always half drunk, and probably burning a stress ulcer into his stomach. Stupid America, being America.

"She's gone. But some of the rest of us care about your eyes, too, you know."

"Like who?" Russia looked up, over his shoulder at Lithuania who was standing by the arm of the chair.

"Well…" Lithuania shrugged slightly. "I tend to think your eyes are one of the better parts of you…"

"Really?" There was something so hopelessly trusting about the way that Russia asked, as though he was looking for real confirmation.

"Your eyes and your hands."

"My hands. Right." Russia laughed bitterly. "Because you could like my hands."

"I can when you…" Lithuania hesitated to finish.

Russia stood up, stretching, and turned the TV off, sitting on the chair's arm now and smirking. "When I what?"

"When you massage my neck. That's all."

"That's not all, Toris, is it?"

"Well, I don't mind back massages but…" Lithuania shook his head. "You should go to bed. I'm glad I got you to turn that damn thing off. It's worse than when you used to do this with the radio."

"Why's that?"

Lithuania shrugged, "At least then your eyes wouldn't fall out. They get so red from looking at that thing… I just feel… bad for you."

Russia nodded slightly and then grabbed Lithuania's wrist, pulling him close in a tight hug. He smelled like vodka, sweat, and clean laundry. To Lithuania, it was the best smell in the world. "I miss her," Russia finally whispered, his chest heaving. Lithuania realized, with shock, that Russia was shaking with quiet sobs.

"I know," Lithuania muttered, reaching up to gently run his fingers through Russia's hair, not wanting to admit how much it delighted him when Russia rested his head on his shoulder. "You really should get some sleep."

"I will," Russia said, his voice sounding broken. He stepped back from Lithuania, fixing him with an un-even stare that was watery and shot through with red. "Go back upstairs. I'll be up in a bit."

Lithuania nodded and turned around, and then stopped short when he heard the dull electrical buzz and the chatter of the television again. He looked over at his shoulder at Russia, who was hiding his face in his hands and breathing deeply. "Go on," Russia muttered, "I'll be up."

"You're waiting to hear news from China, aren't you?"

Russia nodded weakly, not looking at Lithuania. "Just go to bed."

"Fine." Lithuania didn't argue, just began the ascent to the master bedroom. But he looked once more over his shoulder at the silhouette formed by Russia, and found that, as always, there was something beautiful about his back. And it pained Lithuania to know that tonight, he wouldn't get to put his hands on it, to feel the raw power that he found he missed.


End file.
